


Thunder and Lightning

by historylover



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 02:56:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3920281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/historylover/pseuds/historylover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Memories taking place during a thunderstorm</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thunder and Lightning

A/N: I was going to slow down on writing. Take a break. But, things aren’t going so well for me, and I try to work things out by writing. Lucky you. Also, I was inspired by a thunderstorm the other night. So, this has no plot, and a lot shorter.

Disclaimer: Own nothing except for a collection of DVDs, which I’m marathoning again. Going to finish season 1 tonight.

**Thunder and Lightning**

The storm started shortly after midnight. Just a few flashes of lightning, followed by thunder several seconds later. When it started raining, neither the lightning nor the rumble of thunder was close.

By, the storm was moving in with a fury. It had basically stranded Illya and Napoleon for the night, as their pilot didn’t want to risk the storm. Napoleon saw it as an opportunity to get some rest, as this affair was difficult on both of them.

Illya woke at the first flash of lightning. Not that he was sleeping much anyways. He had always prided himself on being able to sleep anytime, anywhere, but his brain decided to go through his mistakes on this affair point by point by point. Even if it had been nearly a week since he had more than two hours of sleep. At least, Illya thought it was nearly a week. It felt more like a year.

Illya closed his eyes and tried to turn down the volume of the list running though his mind. Lightning flashed brightly across his closed eyes again, although his distracted mind identified it as something else. Something in his past that he never consciously thought about but knew it was something that shaped him. A rumble of thunder so loud that it rattled the windows backed up his memory.

Rain pounded against the hotel room’s balcony door. Somewhere a child started screaming, although, as Illya got out of his bed, he wasn’t sure if the screams were in the present or in his past.

Illya pulled back the curtains and watched the rain falling almost sideways from the blowing wind. Lightning flashed like explosions from falling bombs. Thunder rumbled like the rumble of tanks firing and pounding against the streets, only in much shorter bursts.

He rubbed his dry, tired eyes. He needed to sleep, not to indulge in these memories. He wished the screaming child would stop.

 _“Illya, come away from the door!”_ he heard his mother whisper.

Turning back to the room, he only saw Napoleon sleeping restlessly, illuminated by the flashing lightning.

He turned back to the window, the swirling rain echoing his swirling thoughts.

 _“Illya, please!”_ his mother’s voice begged him again.

Turning again, he found he was no longer standing in the hotel room but in the house he lived in when he was a young boy. He hadn’t seen that room since he was 7 or 8 years old. It was dirty and dark. His mother, older brother and sister, and younger sister were huddled together in a corner, trying to keep hidden, in case Nazis came searching. His older sister was reaching for him. His little sister was crying and screaming.

“Coming, Mama,” Illya said aloud, having no confusion of how he got there. He turned back to look out of his door. The skyline had changed from the drenched modern American city to the bombed out ruins of Kiev.

“Is Papa coming home?” his older sister tearfully asked.

“No,” Illya whispered as his mother answered “I hope so.”

“Illya? What’s going on?” Napoleon’s voice sounded next to him, causing him to jump. He rubbed his tired eyes again. The rain continued to pour on the modern American city when he reopened his eyes.

Napoleon pulled back the other curtain and looked out. “You know, my Aunt Amy used to tell my sister and me that thunder and lightning were caused by angels bowling in Heaven.”

“What? Why?”

Napoleon shrugged. “Just a fairy tale to calm fears.”

“You were scared of thunder and lightning?”

“My sister was. Are you? You’ve been standing here, as if you were hypnotized. I’ve never known you to be afraid of anything.”

Illya sighed. “There’s nothing frightening about thunderstorms, unless you’re struck by lightning…”

“How long has it been since you slept?” Napoleon interrupted. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Lightning is just basically a big static-electric discharge, and thunder is a sonic shock wave resulting from that lightning…”

“Tovarisch? You were sleeping just now. Did you know that? You’re swaying now…”

Illya let go of the curtain, rubbed his eyes again, and walked back into the room. “I wish someone would shut that kid up,” he muttered.

“What kid?” Napoleon asked just before the kid screamed again at another flash of lightning and crash of thunder. “That kid. She’ll settle down. Now, Tovarisch, will you lie down before you fall down?”

“I’m not going to fall down,” Illya protested, although he sat on his bed, watching the rain fall through the curtains.

“Sure, I forgot. You don’t need sleep. You’re just shaking and swaying. Want to talk about what you were dreaming about? It sounded like quite a nightmare.”

“I wasn’t asleep…” Illya’s voice trailed off, remembering what he saw. He didn’t think he was asleep, but he realized he probably couldn’t have been completely awake. His watch verified that nearly an hour had passed.

“Fine. Want to talk about what you were hallucinating? You were muttering something to your mother.”

“No. It’s… I don’t want to talk about anything. It’s all right now.”

Napoleon turned back to the window. “Lightning is pretty magnificent, you know? Nature’s lighting show.”

There was no answer. Napoleon looked over at the beds. Illya was asleep.

“Glad to help you, Tovarisch,” Napoleon said, watching the rain pour down. The storm was passing, and the rain was making everything new again.

End

A/N: I have a master’s degree in World War II. I probably have forgotten everything I ever knew about WWII. But, somewhere, in the recesses of my mind, I remembered a couple of WWII battles in Kiev. The first battle, which was the one I was thinking of for this story, took place from August to September 1941. Knowing that in “The Fox and the Hounds Affair,” Illya had memories that he refused to entertain about Kiev, I’m assuming this is probably something he remembered. Of course, then I remember “Oh, yeah. Fictional character.”

(For the record, I love thunderstorms. Whenever there is a thunderstorm, as long as I’m inside, I make it a point to watch the lightning. I love it. It’s beautiful and awesome.)


End file.
